


Get My Hands On Heaven

by grimdarkpixels



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: "Jesus Christ Connor!", Aphrodisiacs, Computer Viruses, Deepthroating, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Face-Fucking, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Riding, Thirsty Connor (Detroit: Become Human), interfacing, theyre both into each other but theyre fucking out of necessity at first so it probably counts, yes this is just 10k words of porn dont look at me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 09:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18118208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimdarkpixels/pseuds/grimdarkpixels
Summary: A small gang of anti-android hackers attempts to send Markus a deadly virus. Unfortunately, they attach the wrong file, and he ends up infected with a powerful aphrodisiac.Luckily, Connor is willing to help.





	Get My Hands On Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> THIS FIC HAS GIVEN ME SO MUCH GRIEF YOU HAVE NO IDEA.
> 
> ive been trying to write it since maybe october or september last year. yes, it took me this long to finish it. yes, i regret my decisions. clearly not enough to stop me from posting it though!!!
> 
>  
> 
> ~~please give me kudos and comments my children are starving~~

“There, it’s sent. Now we just wait until the motherfucker fries. Then we can get some real work done.”

“You think this’ll be what straightens them out?”

“Uh, yeah! I’d like to see them sign any more bills when their fuckin’ robot messiah’s CPU melts into slag.”

“I’m just saying, deviants can be stubborn little bastards. What if they just take its place?”

“Then we’ll whip up new viruses until they give up. Look, we’ve got this, man. This might be my best work yet. Not even that fancy bodyguard bot could face off against… Oh shit.”

“What is it?”

“Uh… I have no idea what I just sent, but it wasn’t the right-- Hey! Watch the chair!”

“…Oh my god. What is this sort of thing even _doing_ on your hard drive?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know why it was right next to the real file in the directory, but--”

“Guys, what’s going on back there?”

“Paul, did you download some Eden Club shit on here for some reason? Because somehow we just sent the deviant leader a file named ‘aphrodisiac’, and I have _questions_.”

“I…shit! I can explain--”

“Really, dude? You never deleted that shit?!”

“Nevermind that, he just fucked the entire objective! Literally! How long until they report us?”

“Way to go, _Paul_.”

“Don’t pin this on me, you’re the one who sent the fucking thing!”

“Well, I wouldn’t have, if you kept a closer eye on your freaky sex programs, idiot!”

“I’m sorry, okay?! Look, that shit doesn’t work on androids that haven’t aren’t packin’ something down there. What're the odds they'd give a prototype a working dick? Probably slim-to-none? I bet the dumb thing won’t even notice.”

\---

After working hard for the past hour trying to prepare for the upcoming summit meeting, the sound of Markus groaning is what finally breaks Connor’s focus. He looks up in time to see the deviant leader flinch, a hand coming to press at his right temple. Each of the other Jericho leaders look up from their own desks upon noticing Markus’ sudden distress.

“Are you okay?” Josh is the first to ask.

Markus just shakes his head and blinks rapidly a couple of times, collecting himself. “Yeah. I’m just tired…” he replies after a few moments, yet his voice comes out sounding strained.

“Your stress just spiked from 50% to 61%,” Simon points out. “It’s okay to take a break if you need it.”

“Really. You should go and rest; we can take care of the next stage of preparations.” North raises a hand to pat Markus on the shoulder, but he jerks forward and away from the contact, pressing his palm harder against where his LED used to be.

“ _Ah--!_ ” Markus makes a choked off noise and starts blinking again. His left hand grabs on to the table as he sways slightly in his seat. He stares straight ahead, like he’s reading something appearing in his mind palace. While seeing Markus burn himself out from working too much is no surprise, this is somewhat non-standard behavior. Connor has a terrible feeling about it.

Markus shuts his eyes tightly and murmurs, “I think…shit, someone sent me malware…”

The tension in the room skyrockets. Markus begins to fall out of his seat, but Josh practically dives out of his own to catch the deviant leader, who grunts at the impact. Josh stands up, supporting Markus’ weight until he composes himself enough to stand. North slides out of her seat and stands close enough to examine Markus, and Simon and Connor quickly join her.

Markus grabs onto Josh’s shoulders to keep himself steady, obviously shaking. Whatever has overtaken his system, it’s acting fast. Too fast. His stress is at 65% already, and rising steadily. Josh raises a hand up to Markus’ forehead and sheds his skin, but Markus recoils from the touch. He doesn’t let go of Josh when he steps back, though, so Josh has to awkwardly stagger forward to keep them both from falling.

“D-Don’t! It’s…oh, shit.” Markus releases his grip on the PJ500 and stumbles backward until he hits the wall of the room, leaning against it and staring at his colleagues with wide eyes. “I-I don’t… _gh--_ I don’t know what it is… How dangerous it is…”

He has a point. If anyone tries to connect with him, whatever is in his system could spread and infect them, too. And if it broke down Markus’ security despite him being a unique, relatively new model, then the other Jericho leaders would definitely be at risk. But Connor is an RK800; his antivirus software is more advanced than standard household or commercial models; he was built to handle dangerous programs, for crying out loud.

With that in mind, he takes a step forward. “Markus--”

“Sto̧p̷!” Markus’ words come out sounding slightly staticky, which does nothing to quell Connor’s concern. Had his LED still been installed, there’s no doubt in his mind that it would be cycling through red and yellow.

Markus’ feet twitch like they’re rooted to the spot before he stammers out again, “I-I…hav͟e t͝o ͞go.”

As soon as his words come through clearly interspersed with static, he lurches towards the door and rushes out of the room on unsteady legs.

“Markus!” Connor calls out to the slamming door. What the hell is he doing? Isolating himself from others would minimize the risk of transmitting the virus to anyone, but to ignore Connor’s efforts to help? What’s the point of isolating yourself from your own bodyguard?

Josh sighs into his own hands, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “He was burning up when I touched him. I didn’t get to scan him, but that can’t be healthy. He shouldn’t be alone right now,” He concludes, looking meaningfully at Connor.

“Connor, you’re the least likely to be affected by whatever’s infected him,” Simon clarifies. “We’ll be fine working on our own, but you need to make sure Markus is okay.”

Connor just nods. He doesn’t need to be told twice. “Don’t worry. You guys focus on the meeting, I can find him. He shouldn’t have gone far.”

North telling him to be careful is the last thing Connor hears before he leaves the room.

Finding Markus isn’t as difficult as Connor expects it to be. It seems he was leaning against the wall as he left, so it’s just a matter of using his mind palace and following the handprints on the walls until he ends up on the top floor, where he finds Markus in a heap on the ground, merely eight feet away from his room. The sight makes Connor panic, even after he registers that Markus is still alive and shaking like a leaf.

He drops to one knee beside Markus to examine him more closely. He’s on his elbows and knees, his head against the ground. Connor can’t see his face from this angle, but his cooling fans are whining loud enough to be heard over his heavy breathing, and his stress has climbed up to 77%.

His body is doing everything in its power to bring down his temperature; which could mean something’s wrong with his internal temperature regulation. Left unchecked, it would be enough to do major damage to his entire system.

Connor puts a hand on Markus’ back and notices Markus jerk under his touch. “Markus, I’m here. Are you okay?”

Markus lifts his head up a bit, allowing Connor to get a glimpse of his face. His eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes clamped shut as he shakily breathes out through his nose. His face is flushed blue - thirium likely serving its secondary purpose as a coolant for malfunctioning biocomponents - and Connor sees his lower lip drawn between his teeth before he releases it in favor of speaking.

“N-N̶o… I can-- I c͠an̵'t, _n͢ḩ͝͡,_ get̵ up…” he explains, eyes fluttering open briefly. His voice is even less clear now, but it’s obvious he’s trying to keep himself from stuttering through his words. “I'͘m…t̷o̶o sens̢i̢t͘ive, and m͠y cl-cloth͝ȩs… _h̷͟f̧f̢_ …mo̷vi-movi _iingh,_ s̢͘h͘i҉t͝!”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Connor soothes, the message clear. He withdraws his hand from Markus’ back as he thinks over the information he’s been given. Not only is Markus overheating, but his tactile sensitivity is so high that he can’t tolerate the weight or movement of his own clothes.

The simple solution would be to remove them, but Connor feels his face go warm at the thought. He thinks he’s been subtle about his admiration for the deviant leader being more than simply platonic, but he’s not sure how comfortable he is with the idea of undressing him. On the other hand, Markus won’t last if his temperature climbs much higher. After taking a moment to sort out his priorities, he decides to put aside his own feelings for the moment.

“I have to get you to your room before I can help you out. Can I touch you to help you up?” he asks.

When Markus breathes out, it sounds like the air is being punched out of him. “Go̡d͜…yea̷h, o-ok͢ay, touch me,” he says after taking a moment presumably to steel himself.

Connor will worry about the double entendre _after_ he’s made sure Markus isn’t going to die. He gently takes Markus’ arm and loops it around his shoulders. Once he feels Markus grab onto his jacket, he wraps own his arm around Markus, putting his free hand on Markus’ chest. After giving Markus a second to brace himself, he stands up, carrying his own weight as well as Markus’. The movement makes Markus tremble violently and he barely fails to stifle a loud, staticky groan. Connor winces sympathetically and moves them both into Markus’ room, trying to disturb the other android as little as possible.

He locks the door behind them and carefully lowers Markus until he’s sitting on the side of his bed, then sits beside him at an angle that allows him to see most of Markus’ face. His stress level has decreased slightly, which is reassuring enough. Well, it would be if it weren’t for one thing.

“Your temperature keeps rising. If we don’t do something about it, you’re going to short out.”

“I _kno̧w_ t̷h̴a̕t,” Markus sighs, pressing his legs together and trying to stop shaking. “I’m̶͟…I’m wea̴r̴ing too͞ ̵m͏a͟ny layer̢s.”

“You are,” Connor agrees. Connor slowly reaches up to the collar of Markus’ coat, grasping the zipper between his thumb and forefinger. “Is it okay if I take--”

“ _Y͝ȩş̨_.”

In any other situation, Connor might be amused or flustered at Markus’ eagerness to be undressed. As it is, he simply unzips and removes his coat as quickly as he can without bothering him too much, folding it up and setting it aside before doing the same with the other layers. When Markus is undressed from the waist up, Connor finds himself needing to blink away a few unsavory prompts.

“Do you feel any better?” he asks, making sure to keep his eyes on Markus’ face as opposed to any other parts of his body.

After a moment of pause, Markus nods faintly. “A҉lmost, but…it’s͟ ͝not enou͜g̵h…”

“Can you tell me what the virus is affecting? What are your symptoms?”

“It'̸s-- It took my a͠n̢ti̛virus offline when it i̴n͢fected ͠me, and it's me̸ssing with…my t̛e͜mperatu̢r̵e̵ reg͢u̷lat͝ion, c-cl-- _m̨̢mf̛,_ clearly. My ta̷c̕tile sens͟itivity i-is way too high and I c-a̶̡ _nnn_ ’t bring it down… My head is too f̧o̶ggy to think strai̢ght and I ne̸e̡d͡ t͢o…n-n̵ee҉d to-- I… _f͠u̴͞ck͟--_ ”

Markus is panting and twitching the entire time he explains, and it’s hard to watch in more ways than one. Connor does all he can to soothe the infected android, just short of actually touching him.

“Shh, Markus, it’s alright. Take your time. Just-- Is that it? Can you tell me anything about the virus itself?”

After another deep breath, Markus replies, “It…loo͟ks like it’s c̡o͟nstruc͡ted from H̨R̛400͡ pro҉gram̨m̴ing…”

The penny drops. Connor feels warmth spread through his face as he realizes that most of the noises coming from Markus aren’t ones of pain. “Shit,” he whispers, before an epiphany strikes him. “Wait, w-what’s the file name?”

Markus gives him a hesitant glance before checking through his system for the file. “…4̵P̧#r0D̶i5̨1A̧C͢.drd.”

“ _Shit_ , it’s worse than I thought.”

“H-H͢u̷h͝?”

“I know what this is,” Connor confesses, unable to hide the frown that etches itself onto his features. “A former Eden Club customer manipulated some of the programs and made them more…volatile. And compatible with any android that has sexual components, not just sex androids.” He glances down at Markus’ lap when he finishes his sentence, and he notices Markus discreetly pressing a palm against himself. Jesus _Christ,_ how long has he been doing that?

Connor clears his throat and forces his eyes back up to Markus’. “The good news is that it never killed any of the victims, so you should be okay, especially since clothes…aren’t an issue.” He winces as those words leave his mouth sounding much less appropriate than they sounded in his head. “Your temperature and stress are both decreasing, so you’re no longer in critical condition. The bad news is you’re going to be out of commission until your antivirus can come back online and get rid of it, which could take a few hours.”

Markus’ eyes go wide. “W͢h͝--̛ _H͢ou̡rs͠?_ ”

“The rest of the day, in a worst case scenario.”

Markus sighs and screws his eyes shut, letting out a whimper soft enough to be drowned out by static. “I d--…I̷ d̨on’t wann̶a̵ ͡be͡ s̸tu͝ck like this for t̛hat̡ ̴lo̡n͢g̡. It͡-it’s unbe͟a̢ra͢b̴le̛ a̢̨s͡ ͜it͘ ͝is!” His hips jerk under his hand and he groans in desperation.

“T̶hi̧s isn’t eve̢n͢ h- _he͢l͘p̛i̴ng,_ dam̷m̴it…̶” he pants quietly. He sounds so lost and embarrassed, bordering on helpless.

A confusing mix of sympathy and affection settles in Connor’s chest. He knows there’s one way to speed up the process, but it’s crossing so many lines that he can’t even fathom suggesting it.

Unfortunately, his mouth clearly hasn’t caught up to his brain on that front.

“There’s…a way I could help, technically,” he admits.

“H̷̕n̴͠nh̶?̨̕”

Fuck, he’s really about to say this. Connor swallows past the lump in his throat and ignores the part of his brain that’s telling him to back off. “I don’t know exactly how effective it is, but past victims were able to recover faster with…outside help, if you catch my drift.”

Markus doesn’t, initially, but it’s obvious when he realizes what Connor is suggesting when he makes a sound like he just choked on his own tongue. “Ąre y̨ou ͠jo͘ki̴n͠g̶?” he squeaks.

If Connor wasn’t blushing before, he’s sure he is now. “Do I look like I would joke about something like this? I-- Look, it was just a suggestion, I’m sor--”

Connor is about halfway through standing up when one of Markus’ hands shoots up to grab Connor’s wrist. “N҉̧--̷̵ Wait! D͜on͏'t g̷o-- I-I ̢w͟asn't͞--̕”

He cuts himself off with a poorly stifled moan. Connor stares at him for a moment and takes in the sight of Markus. His eyes are glassy, pupils are blown wide, face stained blue. His trembling is so severe it looks like he’s about to fall to pieces. Connor feels searing hot breath against his face, heat radiating from where Markus’ hand is curled around his arm.

Connor struggles to maintain his composure and asks, “You weren’t what?”

The blush on Markus’ face only darkens, and his eyes fall to the floor for a moment. “I…wa̷sn't ̕gon̕n͠a sa̶y no…”

It’s Connor’s turn to be shocked. He replays the audio in his head and comes to the conclusion that, no, he’s not malfunctioning. Markus really did just accept his proposition. Connor often claims not to believe in a higher power, but he can’t help but think _‘rA9, give me strength.’_

No such mercy comes, and Connor finds himself sitting back down, trying to ignore the anticipation welling up inside him. “What do you want me to do?”

“ _G̷o̷d̴--_ P-Pl̴e͟ase fuck̸in͝g just _toųc̷h͞ m͢e̶_ ,” Markus whispers, nearly hisses, as he moves both his hands to the bed sheet under him.

Connor reaches down to undo Markus’ belt before he can think twice about it. His hands brush against the tented part of Markus’ slacks in the process, and Markus immediately tenses up, gasping for breath. If that’s his response to being touched before his pants are even off… Christ, how strong is this virus?

 _'This doesn’t mean anything,'_ he thinks to himself as he fumbles with the belt. _'I’m just helping Markus with a malfunction. This doesn’t change anything about our relationship, professional, platonic, or otherwise… Fuck, who am I kidding? Will I even be able to look him in the eye after this?'_

Before he can spiral any further, Connor moves on to Markus’ fly, tugging his pants and boxers down without further fanfare. Markus sighs in relief and lifts his hips to help Connor out, kicking off his shoes along with everything else. And once Connor’s eyes fall to Markus, laid completely bare and exposed before him, he can’t look away. His cock is already hard and leaking against his thigh; average in terms of length, but also thick, uncut, and curving down.

(He feels like he just learned far more about Kamski’s preferences than he could have ever cared to know. Perish the thought.)

Connor already feels anxiety welling up within him, so he licks his palm and wraps it around Markus, giving him a firm, experimental stroke. Immediately, Markus lets out a broken shout and a shudder rocks through his entire body, so forceful that he has to dig his fingers into Connor’s shoulder to remain upright.

“F̛̛uc̢k̡͘! Mo̡r̶e͝, plea͟şe, _p̧l̷e͞a̷sȩ--_ ”

Connor swallows the noise that threatens to escape him and repeats the action, tightening his grasp ever-so-slightly. Markus bucks harshly into Connor’s hand, tossing his head back and forth and shuddering like a man possessed. Sounds that barely resemble coherent speech tumble from his lips in a constant stream, loud enough that they can probably be heard by anyone passing by, despite Markus’ efforts to restrain them.

As Connor becomes surer of himself, he falls into a rhythm that has Markus seizing up and nearly screaming until he hides his face in the juncture between Connor’s neck and shoulder, panting hotly against his collarbone. Occasionally Connor presses his thumb against a sensitive spot just below the head or dips his hand lower to cup Markus’ balls, and he resists the urge to smile when he gets Markus to arch his back and honest-to-god mewl into his shoulder.

At some point, Markus shifts until he’s almost pressed right into Connor’s chest, his arms wrapped around Connor’s neck. The heat radiating from Markus is a bit uncomfortable, and he thinks he can feel drool soaking into his shirt, but he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t think he could complain even if he wanted to. Certainly not when Markus’ entire body is vibrating against him, his biocomponents thrumming with energy, jumbled cries of 'Connor' and ‘please don’t stop’ into his shoulder.

Connor picks up the pace of his strokes, and Markus fucking _wails._ He’s so insanely responsive, just about convulsing in place. Connor doesn’t know how much of it is thanks to the virus, but it drives him wild. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Markus lose all his inhibitions like this, and watching Markus revel so completely in the pleasure he’s being given, that _Connor_ is giving him, is…

His train of thought is derailed when he feels Markus’ nails dig into his shoulder hard enough to rip his shirt a bit and he shudders violently, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. He barely muffles a scream of pleasure by biting Connor’s shoulder, drawing a sharp hiss from him as he strokes Markus through his climax. As soon as Markus finishes riding out his high, he sags against Connor’s chest, gasping for air.

“Are you--” Connor begins, but he’s startled by the sound of his own voice, thickened with what he hesitates to call lust. He clears his throat and tries again: “Are you okay?”

Markus only breathes loudly in response, twitching slightly as he comes back down to earth. “Y҉eah,” he gasps, finally. “S͟hit̡, I…”

He lifts his head up from Connor’s shoulder and glances down at himself. Artificial cum coats his stomach and Connor’s fingers, but he’s still hard. In fact, his erection hasn’t flagged whatsoever, still pulsing for attention in Connor’s hand. Markus groans and lets his head fall back.

“F̸uc͡k͢, it̶ w̡o͜n̵'t͠ ͝st̶o̕p̧…”

Connor lifts his clean hand up to the back of Markus’ head. “I’ve got you,” he soothes, dragging his fingers up Markus’ shaft slowly and eliciting an overstimulated yelp before letting go and wiping his hand on the sheets. “Lie back.”

Markus adjusts himself until he’s lying down on the bed properly with his back against the headboard. Connor shrugs his jacket off and kicks off his shoes before climbing onto the bed between Markus’ legs.

“What do you want me to do now?” he asks, bringing one hand down to stroke the inside of Markus’ thigh. He shivers at the contact and manages to construct his first full sentence since they started.

“ _Ḩ̷aah̶͞͞…_ A̢nyt͡hi͜n͟g…your han̴ds͝, your mo̶u͡th, I do̷n҉'t-- _f̡f̸͡h̡--_ Don’t fu͢ck̴ing car̴e, _pl̛e͞a͟s̢e._ ”

Connor nods and moves down until his head is between Markus’ legs. He runs his hand through the cum on Markus’ stomach (technically, it’s just lubricant designed to look like cum) until his hand is covered, then curls his fingers back around Markus’ cock, stroking gently for a bit to allow them both to settle back into the rhythm. His focus shifts between his own movements and watching Markus, trying to gauge his response to his ministrations.

Markus twitches even more than he was before, though it’s less pronounced now that he’s lying back. His eyes flutter shut and he lets his head fall back, one of his hands coming up to cover his mouth, muffling the loud moans and gasps that escape him in a constant stream. The other hand drifts down to caress his own torso, wandering up and down his chest, no doubt exploiting his heightened sensitivity.

Right when Connor thinks Markus has adjusted to his rhythm, he leans down and presses a wet kiss to the head. He keeps his eyes trained on Markus’ face, and the reaction he gets doesn’t disappoint. Markus’ eyes shoot open and he moans into his hand, trying and failing to stop himself from thrusting into Connor’s touch.

When Connor pulls back and licks his lips, the forensic scanner on his tongue tries to tell him the chemical makeup of Markus’ cum _(Android Ejaculate: Water, Polyethylene Oxide, Titanium Dioxide, Potassium Sorbate, Citric Acid)_ which he promptly dismisses.

“Is that okay?” he asks, just to be certain.

Markus groaning into his hand and nodding eagerly is all the response Connor needs. He brings his mouth back to Markus’ dick, licking a stripe up the shaft before prodding the slit with the tip of his tongue.

It’s not like Connor is clueless about how to give a blowjob -- it would be weird if he was, considering he can look anything up whenever he wants -- but he lacks experience, and he knows it’s obvious. He can’t quite figure out how to take more than the head of Markus’ dick into his mouth without his teeth getting in the way. He makes up for it with enthusiasm, licking and kissing the shaft and using his hand on what he can’t fit into his mouth properly. He’s not sure how he’s doing, but he’s not about to stop just to ask.

Markus seems to enjoy it either way, if the smothered noises he’s making are any indication.

His free hand scrambles for purchase against the headboard and the sheets before eventually settling into Connor’s hair. The sensation of Markus’ fingers curling into his locks is unexpected, but pleasant. Almost soothing, in a way.

Connor eventually manages to take more of Markus into his mouth, and he lets out a quiet noise of satisfaction without thinking. The vibration has an obvious effect on Markus, who rolls his hips shallowly. It’s clear how hard he’s trying to remain still, to stop himself from holding Connor in place and just going to town.

Trying not to hurt him, Connor realizes. The idea makes a light, warm feeling settle in Connor’s stomach and he moans again before he can stop it. Markus gasps brokenly and tightens his grip on Connor’s hair, and suddenly spills into Connor’s mouth.

“ _O̢-̧Oh ̢shit,_ ̕sor-͘- so̢rry̨, ͜f͞u͞c͘k,͞ sǫrry!” he hisses, pulling Connor’s head back before he finishes properly. A few spurts of cum land on Connor’s chin and then it stops, but Markus is still hard, and it doesn’t take a genius to know why.

All Connor can do with a full mouth is go, “Hmmh,” and wave a hand to try and assure him that he’s fine. He’s no stranger to ingesting foreign liquids, but it’s never been more than what couldn’t be picked up on his fingers, so it takes him a few seconds to figure out how to swallow it properly. “It’s okay,” he says once his mouth is empty. “I have a separate system for foreign contaminants. Don’t worry about damaging me.”

Markus sucks in a sharp breath when Connor continues to pump his cock. “ _A̸h--̨!_ Ok̵͞-Oka͘y̧…”

“Do you need to cum again?”

Connor already expects the answer when Markus puffs weakly and nods, so he doesn’t waste time before taking him back into his mouth to the sound of Markus swearing and his head thudding against the headboard. He can’t quite suppress a salacious grin at the sound of Markus crying out, seemingly giving up on muffling himself.

Having gained a bit more confidence, Connor starts taking Markus deeper, still using his hand on the part he can’t quite fit in his mouth. He has to stretch his jaw wide to accommodate the intrusion, and he feels a string of drool slip out the corner of his mouth.

He has to wonder what he looks like right now; his hair messed up, face flushed, eyes glazed with lust, a mix of spit and cum dribbling down his neck. A part of him considers what CyberLife would think; the tool they designed to bring down the deviant leader, instead on his knees with the leader’s cock almost hitting the back of his throat.

He doesn’t even bother holding back a moan at the thought.

He pulls back for a second, coughing, and looks up at Markus. The top half of his face is hidden in the crook of his elbow, but the rest of his face is painted with a brilliant cobalt blush, which is now forging its way down to his chest and shoulders. He’s slack-jawed and drooling; gasping and gulping down air that escapes in staticky pants and mewls. It looks like he’s completely given up on keeping his composure.

 _'Beautiful,'_ is the only way Connor can describe the sight before him. He comes dangerously close to saying it out loud before he reoccupies his mouth with pleasing Markus.

Connor moves one hand to hold Markus’ hip down when his involuntary twitching gets too forceful, and eventually moves the other down to play with Markus’ balls, which he responds more than positively to. He gradually moves from working around the length to enveloping it with his mouth and bobbing his head at a leisurely pace.

He can just barely feel the tip brushing the back of his throat, but he always gags and pulls back automatically before he can go any further. For some reason, choking on Markus’ dick just works him up more, sends waves of pleasure down his spine that have him pressing his own thighs together in a desperate search for friction.

He doesn’t know when he got this aroused, but it’s making it hard to focus on Markus’ need when his body is crying out to satisfy his own, desperately craving to feel Markus in his throat.

 _'Fuck it,'_ he thinks as he disables his gag reflex manually. With a determined expression, he tightens his grasp on Markus’ hip and takes him back into his mouth. Only this time he doesn’t need to stop, he just keeps pushing his head down, down, until his nose touches Markus’ stomach and _Christ,_ there are no words for how satisfying it is.

His throat spasms and stretches around the head of Markus’ cock, and he can’t breathe properly. Swallowing around it nearly makes his gag reflex reactivate on its own, but he can’t get enough of the feeling of his throat being so _full._ The response being pulled from Markus just adds to his satisfaction, the grip on his hair strong enough to pull it out if he were human, and he knows he’ll never get Markus' strangled shout out of his head.

He allows himself a satisfied groan before it gets to be too much and he pulls off, gasping for air only to cough hard.

“ _H͜҉nn̛g͜͢h̛͠--_ E-҉E͟as͞y͟! Don̸'t, _h͡a̵h͞,_ h̕u̕-͟h͏u̕rt y͠o͜u͘rs͢e̛lf̶,” Markus wheezes.

Connor can’t tell which feeling is stronger; admiration of the fact that Markus still looking out for his well being, or pride from the fact that Markus sounds utterly wrecked. He lets himself finish coughing and squeezes his legs together, pressing a palm against himself to try and alleviate some of the pressure there.

Looking up at Markus, the first thing he says is, “Fuck my face.”

 _'Way to be blunt, Connor,'_ he thinks as Markus looks at him hesitantly. He feels Markus untangle his hand from his hair and try to smooth it back down, and Connor tries not to let himself look disappointed.

“I̵ ̢d--…̨I ̷don͡'͝t ͘w͝a̢nn̕a hu̷rt yo͏u…̷” Markus says.

“You’re not,” Connor insists. “I, ah… I want you to keep going.”

Markus’ eyes glint with something Connor can’t identify before it’s replaced once again with apprehension. “I jus̷t… ̵Į'm jus͏t ̸wo̡r͟-w͘or̕r̵i̴ed͠…that I’ll g͢et͝ t̨oo ro͝u̸gh̶,” he admits.

Connor absentmindedly moves both his hands up and down Markus’ thighs, making the android beneath him shiver. “I know you’re holding back. I really appreciate it, Markus, but this is about you. Stop worrying about other people and let _go,_ just this once. I promise I won’t break.”

Markus thinks it over for a few moments before giving a shaky nod, threading his fingers through Connor’s hair again and cautiously guiding him back to his cock. Connor opens his mouth without hesitation and lets Markus guide him down.

He’s startled by the first shallow thrust into his mouth, but he quickly adjusts as Markus settles into his own pace. He sighs through his nose and lets his eyes fall closed, going along with Markus’ movements as best he can by hollowing his cheeks and humming every-so-often.

Between the prior stimulation and Connor’s continued efforts, it’s not long before Markus chokes something out that’s drowned out by static before his hips stutter and he cums into Connor’s mouth again.

He gives a quiet moan of appreciation and swallows down what he can, though he’s still unaccustomed to ingesting so much liquid at once, so a lot of it spills out of his mouth. It drips down between Markus’ thighs and onto the bed sheets, and he thinks about apologizing, but thinking about it is as far as he gets, because Markus is still rocking into his mouth with increasingly frenzied movements.

Connor moans louder and rubs Markus’ thighs and hips in encouragement, only to grunt and splutter when Markus suddenly pushes his head down until he feels Markus breach his throat again. He feels himself get pulled back harshly, only for him to be brought back down just as fast. The new pace is forceful and unrelenting, barely giving Connor time to breathe or collect himself as Markus starts fucking his throat in earnest.

If Connor is honest with himself, it’s the closest he thinks he’s ever come to bliss.

He can’t stop himself from moaning quietly every time Markus drives himself deep enough to push into his throat. The sensation drives Connor wild, it’s all he can do to stay there and take what Markus gives him. There’s almost no rhythm to his movement, alternating between thrusting frantically into Connor’s mouth and pulling his head down until his nose is mashed against Markus’ pelvis.

He barely notices his own hand wandering back down until it presses against the pressure building between his legs and he mewls around the cock in his mouth, giving aborted jerks of his hips against his own touch. It’s almost ironic, how he convinces Markus to stop holding himself back, yet he resists giving in to his own steadily building need.

It starts a chain reaction of sorts. Connor hums low and deep, Markus fucks him a little harder, tightening his grip in Connor’s hair, which just makes Connor grind into his own hand more eagerly and moan louder. It keeps building up, more and more friction and heat until Markus pushes Connor’s head down as far as it can go and spills down his throat with a shout.

The friction between his legs is overwhelming by now, nearly sends him over the edge until he barely reins himself in. 

It’s fruitless to deny himself any longer. If he lets this end without knowing what it’s like to well and truly make Markus come undone, he has no idea if he’ll ever get another chance.

Connor reaches up to pull Markus’ hand away from his head and lifts himself up.

“ _M̨͘͠m̴̧h̛,̡̕_ w̶h-͘w͢hat-̨-? Ar̛e͠ you͝ ̛o͢k̡a̸y͞?”

Markus doesn’t sound mad or upset, just confused. And still more worried about Connor than himself. Fuck.

Connor nods and pulls himself up to lean on his heels, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Y-Yes--” he pauses to clear his throat, his own voice coming out hoarsely before he tries again, “I’m okay. Sorry, I just…”

His hands fly to his shirt buttons, fumbling to undo them before he can talk himself out of it. “I can’t-- I need more. I can’t take it like this anymore,” he gasps out.

“Wa͝it̨!”

Markus sits up to grab onto Connor’s wrist, and Connor furrows his brow in confusion. “What’s wrong? If you’re worried because of my model type, I have the equipment--”

“Įt͏'s̛ n͞ot͘ t͘h̡at͏.̛ I͠…͘” He stops to lick his lips, then looks up at Connor with worry in his eyes. It’s sobering enough that Connor stops in his tracks. “H̕a̛v͢e ͞y͞ou ever ha̕d͞ ͘s̢ȩx̶ befo̵r͢e? ͢P̨rop͝erl͠y͘?”

Connor shakes his head.

“Loo̵k, ͟I̵ k͡now͜ yo͞u'r̷e…y-you'͘re ̶doing s̛o muc̛h a͘lready,̕ ͞Con̕n̸o͟r. I ͡can'͏t̵ tell y̢ou h-hơw g̵rate͡fu̕ļ I̛ a͢m…̴ But͢ I d͜o̕n̶'͏t wąnt͢ yo͡u ͢to gi̸v͡e͟ ̛up y̡o̵u̡r ͝virgin̢it͜y ̵o͏v̴er̶ th͟is̵. Yo͟uŗ ͟fir͝s-- ̧f̨ir͟s͢t ti͞me͘ ͏should be with ̶so͜m̛eone you ̡cąre͠ ͞a̢bout̷.͡”

“I _do_ care about you.”

Markus scowls. “Don't͘ ͠pr̵et͘en͘d y͠ou̴ ̸d̕o͢n'̕t ̛k͟ņow what͡ I̢ mean.”

Connor pulls his wrist from Markus’ grasp. “I’m not. Markus…”

His hand comes to rest on Markus’ chest, right over his pump regulator, in what Connor hopes is a gesture of sincerity. “…You’re the only person I _want_ to do this with.”

He freezes for a moment after he realizes what he just said. Was that too much? What if Markus doesn’t want to go that far? What if, what if--

There’s an almost imperceptible hint of hopefulness in Markus’ voice when he says, “A̶r͞e y̷ou̶ _co̢mp̕letel̢y_ sur̨e̛?”

Connor glances at Markus’ hand, resting beside him. _'Fuck it, our friendship is already ruined,'_ he thinks, and he picks up Markus’ hand. He notices Markus twitch a little bit, but nowhere near as much as he would have when this started, when he brushes his lips gently against Markus’ knuckles.

“I’m certain,” he breathes.

Markus is completely unresponsive for a few seconds, and Connor thinks he crossed a few too many lines before he sees Markus’ expression soften. “…T͟e͏ll̢ m҉e wh̴a̢ţ yo̸u ͢have͢ in ̢min̵d͘,̕ t̸he̛n.”

Connor feels his own face break into a hungry grin and finishes unbuttoning his shirt, shedding it quickly and moving on to his belt. “I want you to fuck me,” he says, internally marveling at himself for keeping his voice so level, even as he fumbles to divest himself of his pants like they’re on fire. “You don’t have to if you want something else, but I want it so much, Markus.”

The breath Markus releases is more static than anything, but his pupils immediately dilate in interest. “Fuck,͘ _Con̢no̢r̛…_ ”

As soon as Connor tugs his pants down and shucks them off, Markus grabs him by the hips and hauls him up until he’s straddling Markus’ lap. His breath hitches at the feeling of Markus’ slick cock sliding against his ass and grinds down against it, wrenching a groan from the android beneath him.

“Is that a yes, then?”

“It's͞ ͏a̸n '̕I̶ ͡w̷an̶t ͝yo͟u ̴t̵o͠ ̛r̸i̶ḑe me̕ s͟o͏ ͢h̵a͠r̵d ͟I sho͡r͝t̸ ̕circ̢ui͞t'.”

Fuck, Connor wouldn’t be able to deny that request if you paid him. He lifts himself up and leans back enough to reach behind himself to make sure his self-lubrication feature is online, only to find he’s already leaking steadily. Embarrassing, but nonetheless convenient.

He rushes through preparing himself - rather inadvisedly, but it’s for Markus’ sake as well as his own - and positions himself until he feels the head of Markus’ dick against his entrance.

He looks up and opens his mouth to speak, but whatever he was going to say fizzles out at the sheer intensity of Markus’ gaze. Hunger, need, and countless other things Connor can’t name swim through his eyes. If Connor had a soul, that look would be piercing through it. He knows, at that moment, he’s going to be in _way_ over his head once this is over.

But that’s something to worry about later. Connor rolls his hips once, twice, and begins to sink down.

Markus gasps like he’s been punched in the stomach, and Connor himself lets out a shaky breath as he eases himself down as gently as possible. The only thing that keeps him from dropping down all at once is how overwhelming the sensation is.

He’s given these components more than adequate ‘testing’, yes, but he’s never had anything more than a few fingers inside him. It goes without saying that Markus is _quite a bit_ bigger than his fingers.

By the time he’s fully seated in Markus’ lap, he feels like he’s going to burst. A shudder wracks through his body, and he finds himself resting his hands on Markus’ chest for purchase. He can feel the pulse of his heart, the hum of his components still working tirelessly to keep him under control. It feels like a fan on the right side has given out, though that can be fixed later. Markus’ hands scramble for a moment before one settles on Connor’s hip, the other on his wrist.

“ _A҉̸ah̛h̴--!_ Ąr̶e̴ ̷y͝o̧u̡͟ ̡o͟-͘k̶͢҉a̵y̴͠?” he asks in a harsh whisper. Connor barely picks up what he’s saying through the static.

“Mmm, I’m fine, just…” Connor shifts his hips a little bit and sighs shakily. Yeah, definitely way bigger than his fingers. “I-I need a minute to get used to it. Sorry.”

Markus shakes his head and says something Connor fails to hear clearly, but reading his lips, he sees, ‘Take your time.’

Connor nods and leans back slightly. He moves around a little bit to test the waters, canting his hips gently, lifting himself up a tiny bit and easing back down, experimenting with the angle he’s sitting at. He often finds himself rolling his hips back and forth in a way that provides friction to his own cock and has him biting his lip to stop himself from moaning. Sometimes he involuntarily tightens around Markus’ cock, and the noises he hears in response can only be described as wounded.

He’s not surprised. Androids may have short refractory periods, but they’re still there for a reason. To have them overridden by the virus, again and again, Connor imagines would be exhausting. Not to mention the fact that androids don’t usually have this many orgasms in such rapid succession. It’s no wonder Markus sounds completely ragged.

Once Connor thinks he’s gotten used to the feeling of Markus inside him, he raises himself about halfway up before sinking back down. Markus swears through a burst of static, grabbing onto Connor’s hips with both hands hard enough to nearly tear the polymer skin.

He gasps at the feeling and repeats his movement a few times; rise up slowly, drop down fast, and he can’t decide what’s better; the feeling itself, or the response it draws out of Markus. It’s not long before he’s bouncing at a hard, steady pace that has them both reeling.

Connor doesn’t make much noise beyond low sighs and trembling moans, a stark contrast to Markus screaming so hard he can barely string a word together. The closest Connor gets to loud is when he lifts himself until nothing but the tip is left inside him only to drop down and fill himself up to the brim all at once. He also can’t stop himself from grating out a harsh “ _Fuck--_ ” when Markus changes the angle and starts catching Connor’s prostate on every other thrust.

If Markus was losing control before, it’s practically nonexistent now. While he lets Connor control their pace, for the most part, he can’t stop himself from bucking his hips with erratic and unrestrained movements, and it’s slowly driving Connor insane. He knows the skin on his hips has retracted beneath Markus’ fingers, and he wouldn’t be surprised if his fingernails were denting the plastic of his chassis.

Oh god, he’s going to leave _marks._ Connor keens at the idea and moves harder, faster, and it only encourages Markus to claw harder at Connor’s chassis, babbling desperately before he throws his head back in ecstasy. Connor’s composure finally snaps and he gives in to his need, wrapping a hand around his own neglected cock.

He immediately sets a blinding pace, jerking himself fast and hard until he tips his head back, slack-jawed and panting, and the coil of need in his stomach finally snaps. Streaks of white paint Markus’ stomach and chest, some even reaching his neck. He can’t help but moan at the sight of Markus in the throes of pleasure, covered in his cum. He clenches around Markus’ cock like his life depends on it, feeling a swell of pride when Markus spills inside him, cock pulsing weakly.

Once he rides out his climax, he realizes Markus is still trying to speak. But his voice is too broken, and his lips are moving too fast to read his words. Connor can only pick up whimpers of ‘please’ and ‘I need--’.

“Slo-Sl-Slow down, I c-can’t hear you,” Connor pants.

Markus emits a staticy sound reminiscent of a sob before taking several deep breaths in an attempt to collect himself. It’s only then Connor notices the tear tracks on his face, leading from the corners of his eyes and onto the pillow beneath him.

“C-C̸-C͡o͜n҉-͏-̴ Ple͞a͏se, ̢ple͟a͟se̛, ͘ _h͏̶̕hh҉m̶͝f̨͢…_ I c̕a- _ąa̵h_ n't̸ hold̴ bac̨k̶ ̧m-̸mu͡c͟h̨ more--͜ _A͘a̸̴h,̶̡ ̛͠f̷͡u͟͠u̕͜uc̕k͏̷͞!̶_ ”

Connor leans over until he feels Markus’ hot breath against his chin. He moves both his hands to cup Markus’ face, one thumb swiping against his lips. Markus opens his mouth and takes Connor’s thumb between his teeth as if on impulse, and that certainly has a _hell_ of an impact on his arousal. He presses his forehead against Markus’ and practically growls the words: “Then _stop holding back._ ”

That’s all it takes for Markus to drive his heels into the mattress and start railing Connor, finally throwing caution to the wind. The control shift startles Connor, but he doesn’t have long to think about it before Markus is just driving into him, filling him up so hard and fast it forces his breath out in heavy puffs. It’s all he can do to support himself on Markus’ chest once again.

His arms and legs shake from the force of it all. He hasn’t yet recovered from his orgasm, so everything feels so much _more_ than it did already. Even if they’re quieter than the static erupting from Markus’ voice modulator, he feels embarrassment pool within him when he loses the capacity to stifle his own noises.

There’s no rhythm to Markus’ ministrations, so he can’t figure out how to match them other than tensing around Markus and rocking his hips down at his own frantic pace. Even then, he just can’t keep up, not with Markus jackhammering him and clawing at his hips so hard he’s convinced Markus has drawn blood.

He doesn’t keep his hands there, eventually moving in favor of raking his nails up Connor’s sides and down his back. Ultimately he settles on grabbing Connor’s ass, allowing him to change the angle until Connor sees stars. His arms buckle out and from there, there’s nothing he can do but rest his arms on either side of Markus’ head and hold onto dear life.

From this angle and distance, Markus’ face is an open book. He keeps tossing his head about, though often he tries to keep himself facing up. He can barely keep his eyes open, but Connor sees how unfocused they are, cloudy with unshed tears. His green eye stands out even more than normal against the indigo flush painting his face. A faint trickle of drool slides down his chin and stains the pillow. He’s gritting his teeth or biting his tongue in one moment, the next his mouth hangs wide open and he’s moaning unabashedly. For lack of a better term, he’s a fucking _mess._

Connor takes it back. _This_ is absolute bliss, being able to watch Markus’ everyday stress burn away as he takes and takes and _takes._ His ability to think coherently is all but lost. Time feels like it slows down to the point of meaninglessness. Everything around him falls to the wayside until there’s only Markus writhing beneath him, cumming inside him again and again, eyes all but rolling back in pleasure when they're not gazing up at Connor like he's a work of art.

Emotions that Connor so often finds himself suppressing well up to the surface all at once, and it feels like his pump regulator is twisting in its socket. Mutual respect, unrequited love, silent adoration, lovesick pining, all so fucking overwhelming combined with the physical _need, need, need_ that sets his sensors alight.

It’s too much for his system to contain. Words he’s thought about saying, but locked away and kept to himself for so long, bubble out of his mouth before he can force them back.

“I l-love you,” he chokes. For a moment, he prays Markus didn’t hear him, but then he feels Markus falter beneath him, sees his eyes go wide, and his heart breaks. He heard. He _knows._

Connor squeezes his eyes closed and rests his forehead against Markus’, cursing himself for letting it slip. “I fu-ucking love you, _ah,_ I love-- _agh!_ love you so fucking much, I’m s-sor-sorry-- _Markus--_ ”

And then Markus does something that Connor, CyberLife’s most sophisticated model to date, with all his hyper-advanced abilities to preconstruct and predict events, can’t anticipate. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t push Connor away. Instead, he pries Connor’s hand away from the sheets and brings their palms together, opening a connection between them. Connor nearly pulls back in shock, but Markus threads their fingers together before he can and…

And he sees everything. It’s discombobulated and out of order, but every single memory, every feeling is laid bare for Connor to experience.

Years worth of adoration and nervousness and love courses through Connor’s mind, pulsing like a live wire and mingling with his own memories, emotions, and reluctance, piled on top of all the physical stimulus, it’s too much, _it’s too fucking much._ It knocks the air from Connor’s lungs, drags him over the crest of orgasm again with white-hot intensity he can’t wrap his head around. For a few moments, it’s like the world around them just dissolves, and Connor has absolutely no idea where his consciousness ends and Markus’ starts. He might be screaming Markus’ name, or he might be imagining it. Either way, he’s distantly aware of Markus’ last orgasm being ripped from him, the loud static noise that erupts from him being cut short as his voice completely gives up on him.

Then it’s over, and he comes crashing back down to earth, figuratively and somewhat literally as his cognitive functions go offline all at once and he collapses against Markus’ chest. He pants heavily and closes his eyes as he runs a diagnostic, though he’s only vaguely aware of the results and warnings appearing before him.

When his mind clears enough and his spine decides to cooperate with him, he shifts until Markus slips out of him and lies down beside him. He lifts his head to give Markus a once-over. His eyes are closed, though he doesn’t look pained or uncomfortable; just tired, if anything. A quick scan of his system indicates he’s in the middle of a soft reboot, but his antivirus is back online and currently nullifying the virus. It also shows that, for the moment, his stress level is sitting comfortably at 13%. Connor smiles at that, despite the fact he just came so hard he’s pretty sure it qualifies as a religious experience.

He idly wonders how long it’s been since Markus’ stress has been this low. He’s always stressing himself out trying to cater to the needs of his people, trying to meet human politicians halfway, he barely ever takes any time to look after himself. He cares so much about the people around him that when he does take a break, it’s when he’s worked himself down to the bone and needs to recharge.

Connor hopes at least some of that stress relief was because of him. He’s not sure exactly what his own stress is at, but he certainly feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

He also notices that, yes, one of Markus’ cooling fans is broken, as well as his voice modulator. Connor releases a tired chuckle; talk about screaming yourself hoarse. He’ll need to book an appointment for Markus to see an android mechanic. Probably one for himself, too.

Worth it, though.

For a little while, Connor just lies there and waits for Markus to wake up. Despite the physical strain he’s just been through, he’s oddly content. To use a phrase he’s never actually heard aloud, he feels like he’s on cloud fucking nine. Do all androids feel like this after sex, or is this another experience he can thank deviancy for?

Either way, knowing how Markus feels certainly doesn’t hurt.

As soon as that thought crosses his mind, he feels Markus begin to stir beside him. He sits up on his elbows and watches as his eyes flutter open, irises no longer swallowed by blackness. He looks a little dazed, but Connor isn’t surprised.

“Hi,” Connor breathes, for lack of anything else to say.

Markus attempts to return the greeting, but when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out except for a faint crackle of static. Despite himself, Connor chuckles at the bemusement on Markus’ face before his system tells him what’s wrong.

“Take it easy. You need to get to a repair center before your voice will be 100% again.”

Now aware that his voice is beyond useless, Markus settles for a nod and reaches out through their wireless connection. _“Can you hear me this way?”_

 _“Yes,”_ Connor replies, deciding that verbal communication is too much effort at the moment. _“How do you feel?”_

Markus shifts a little bit, his expression souring a little when he remembers he’s covered in mess. He leans over to his bedside table and fishes out an unopened box of tissues to clean himself up with. _“Well, the virus is out of my system.”_

_“Good. But make sure you don’t get rid of the file yet; I’ll need to send it to Hank, if this is connected to the cases they saw over there.”_

_“Got it.”_ Markus finishes wiping himself off and sits up properly, discarding the wad of tissues so he can give Connor a once-over. He frowns as his eyes meet the crescent-shaped marks on Connor’s hips, deep enough for thirium to well up in a few of them. Then he takes another handful of tissues and holds them out to Connor. _“Let me clean you up. It’s the least I can do.”_

Connor feels the corners of his lips quirk up before nodding and rolling onto his stomach. Once Markus finishes cleaning him up, throws out the spent tissues and puts the tissue box back where it was, he unexpectedly pulls Connor into his arms until they’re chest-to-chest.

 _“Are you okay?”_ Markus asks.

Ignoring the warmth flourishing in his chest, Connor gives a half-hearted nod. _“Yeah. Nothing that can’t be fixed with some repairs.”_

Markus brushes his fingers against the marks on Connor’s hips with a frown. _“You should have told me I was being too rough.”_

_“You weren’t, I promise.”_

_“We both know that’s not true.”_

_“Well…okay, from an objective standpoint. But don’t blame yourself for it. I…well, I enjoyed it. Quite a bit, if I’m being honest.”_

That makes Markus raise an eyebrow. _“Seriously?”_

Heat blooms in Connor’s cheeks. _“I’m as surprised as you. But yeah, that was… There are no words for how good that was,”_ he admits, hiding his face in Markus’ chest.

 _“You little minx.”_ Even through wireless communication, Connor can hear the smile in Markus’ words. He retorts by slapping Markus’ chest, knowing the pain would be minimal at best, and he feels Markus’ body shake with silent laughter.

 _“Don’t kinkshame me! I didn’t_ have _to help you, you know.”_

_“But you did.”_

When Connor looks up, he sees a soft smile on Markus’ face, his eyes warm and curious. Affectionate.

_“How long?”_

Connor doesn’t understand the question, so he takes a guess at its meaning. _“You were infected for fifty-one minutes and eight seconds.”_

_“That-- Well, good to know, but that’s not what I meant.”_

Markus takes Connor’s hand and threads their fingers together. _“I meant…how long have you been in love with me?”_

Right…the interface. Connor lowers his eyes for a moment. _“Ever since you trusted me enough to join your cause, I think. It took me a lot longer to realize that, though.”_

 _“Will you show me?”_ As Markus asks, the skin on his hand pulls back, but this time, Connor’s is left alone. He decides to answer the wordless question by withdrawing the skin on his own hand, allowing them to connect once again. This time, it’s less overpowering, more coherent.

Stolen glances from across a room. Denial of his own feelings, thoughts that surely his pump regulator is just malfunctioning. Shock and warmth when Connor hugs him for the first time. Affectionate jokes shared between them where he says something stupid just to make Connor laugh. Lonely nights where he finds his mind wandering back to freckled skin and warm brown eyes and feels his heart ache. Late-night conversations with his friends where they tell him to man up and confess. Moments where he comes _this close_ to telling Connor those words he keeps so close to his heart, but something holds him back.

Connor is certain Markus is seeing the same things he is. Those times early on in their relationship where he knew he wanted something, knew he felt differently about Markus than anyone else, but had no idea what it was. Fear? Jealousy? Was he somehow ill? It took a long heart-to-heart with Hank about it before he understood at all, but even then, he was too nervous to stop pining for long enough to do anything about it.

Until now.

When they pull their hands apart, Markus almost immediately grabs Connor by the nape of his neck and drags him into a kiss. It’s messy, the angle is awkward, and their teeth clank together harshly, and it’s perfect. By the time they pull apart, Connor feels breathless despite not needing to breathe. Markus flashes him a toothy grin that he can’t help but reciprocate.

 _“I love you,”_ Markus says. _“Once my voice modulator gets fixed, I hope you’re prepared for me to say that until you get sick of it.”_

Connor pulls Markus into a tight hug. _“I love you too. Also, it’s bold of you to assume I ever could get sick of it.”_

_“I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you so damn much, Connor. This is what you’re stuck with until you get tired of me.”_

Connor can’t stop the elated sigh that escapes him before he kisses Markus again.

_“Yeah, I think I can live with hearing you say that forever.”_

\---

Hank doesn’t expect it when he gets a call from Connor, but he answers it anyway. “Connor? I’m on the clock, I can’t talk for long.”

 _“That’s good, actually,”_ comes Connor’s voice from the other end of the line. _“Remember those androids with the aphrodisiac virus? The one we traced to Paul Butler, but he went off the grid before we could find him?”_

“Ugh.” Hank feels a little sick even remembering that case. “I remember, alright. What, you got a lead?”

_“Maybe. If you check your email, I’ve told Markus to send you the file he was sent. His symptoms matched up with those of the infected androids.”_

Hank turns back to his computer and starts pulling up his email. Sure enough, there’s a new message from Markus. “How the hell did it get to Markus?”

_“That’s what I’m still trying to figure out. With your help, hopefully.”_

“Huh. Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

_“Thank you, Lieutenant. Make sure you don’t let any androids handle that file, by the way. Just to be on the safe side.”_

Hank waves a hand before remembering Connor can’t see him. “Yeah, I know the drill. How’s Markus holding up, by the way? Is he still infected?”

_“No. He’s made a full recovery, though he’ll need to visit an android maintenance center as soon as possible. I’ve already scheduled appointments for us.”_

Hank is relieved to hear it, at least until the last word of Connor’s statement. “What do you mean, ‘us’?” he asks, perhaps more suspiciously than he intended.

_“…Nothing. Can you tell Fowler I’m not coming in tomorrow?”_

For being such a sophisticated android, the kid is a remarkably bad liar. “Alright, cut the shit, what happened to you?”

Connor sighs heavily from his end of the phone. _“Okay, I’m going to try to phrase this as delicately as I can…”_

“Will you please just tell me what the problem is?”

There’s a pregnant pause. Then: _“I can’t walk, Hank. I’ve actually lost all feeling in my lower body.”_

“How the--” Before the words are even halfway out of his mouth, the other shoe drops. “Jesus Christ, Connor!” he yells loudly enough to draw the attention of a few other officers in the bullpen.

 _“You asked,”_ is all Connor has to say for himself.

Well, he’s not wrong. Hank lets out a long-suffering sigh into the phone. “Alright, just-- Does this mean you two actually talked shit out?”

Hank can hear the lovestruck grin in Connor’s voice before he’s even spoken. _“Yes, we did. As it turns out, he was just as oblivious as me.”_

He hears the sound of some sort of impact, followed by Connor chuckling. _"He just punched me for that. But yeah, we're… We're lovers now. God, I hope saying that never gets old…"_

 _Fucking finally,_ Hank wants to say, but he doesn’t. He knows better than anyone how much Connor’s crush was consuming him for the longest time, and he honestly doesn’t think he’s heard an android sound so happy in his life.

That’s worth the knowledge that now he’ll probably have to listen to Connor gush about Markus twice as much, now.

“Good for you. Okay, I’ll tell Fowler you’ll be gone tomorrow. But if he asks why, I’m telling him you fell down the fucking stairs, got it?”

_“That’s fair. Thank you for your time, Lieutenant.”_

“See you soon,” Hank says just before Connor hangs up. He puts his phone back on his desk and sets about reopening that case.

Shit, he can’t believe it took a sex virus for either of those two to make a move.

Well…at least they’re happy.

**Author's Note:**

> not pictured: markus getting his antivirus updated on top of all the repairs and the hackers being tracked down and arrested for their crimes
> 
> also not pictured: one of the officers pulling out a whiteboard that says "it has been 4 days since connor weirded out lt. anderson" and changing the number back to 0


End file.
